a traitor behind a mask
by orangefish2
Summary: You are being brought to one of the safest prisons, where you'll probably spend many, many years behind bars. You have the chance to get out now, if you make up your mind at this very moment. But where do you go when you've betrayed all your friends? The only person, who seemed to care about you, the real you, is dead. You have nobody left to go to. What do you do?
1. Chapter 1

Just a little heads up, English is not my mother-tongue and I'm sorry if there are any mistakes. Also, **Spoiler Alarm**, for those of you who didn't see the finale.

**Disclaimer:** No, I do not own Agents of Shield.

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Imagine that you would have to wear a mask every day. You would not be able to take it off, under no circumstance. Day in, day out you must pretend to be somebody else and hide your real self behind said mask.

Why would you do such a thing you ask?

Well, first of all, to gain information. Information that was necessary to help the one person who made you the man you are today. Who helped you out of your miserable life and showed you a way to get by without anyone's help.

After your horrible childhood, you would look up to this man, considering him as your mentor who would joke around with you and who would helped you out, if everything seemed to falter.

And that despite the fact that he had told you when you first met him that you should under no circumstance trust anybody. Especially him.

But you would anyways. You told yourself that you would always be grateful for the things he had done for you and that you would stand at his side, no matter what. You adored this man, who seemed to fascinate and scare everyone at the same time.

What would you do, if this incredible kind of a man had died and now you had no idea what to do with your life?

Agent Grant Ward asked himself the same question as he was brought back to a highly classified facility, where he would spend many, many years behind bars, if he didn't decide to flee right now.

But where would you head, if there was nowhere and nobody to go to?

What would you do with your life that you have solely dedicated to a man who was never coming back?

You never even thought that you could have made a mistake in standing at this man's side all along. It didn't even cross your mind that your mentor himself, would be at fault with his visions and perceptions of life.

You had found friends throughout your mission to gain information, but you betrayed them all. You threw them in the ocean, because _he_ had ordered you to kill them. And you were glad that you wouldn't have to actually see them die, when you saw the container in which they found themselves in, splash into the ocean. You wouldn't have been strong enough to actually see the light fade from their eyes, you knew that. .

Then there was this woman who you fell for. She hadn't been part of the plan, but your mentor had assured you that she would experience no harm. Then he had ordered somebody to shoot her in the stomach. And even then, you would share his views, angrily and hurt, but you would not leave his side. Because you had promised yourself years ago, that you would never fail to show your gratitude to the only person who seemed to care for you at your darkest moments. And Moreover, this man knew the real person behind the mask and he still stayed at your side. So you would, too. And you would not break this promise.

But why you ask me now?

Well that is a great question and the answer, I'm afraid, is nothing but simple.

I believe that deep down it would be too embarrassing for you to admit that you believed in the wrong man for far too long. Because if you would, all the things you had done for him would suddenly appear in an unfavorable light, wouldn't they? These favors made you the person you are today and if you stopped thinking that they were carried out with the right motives, the outcome would be humiliating.

You would not be someone who kept his promises and stood by his mentor to thank him for saving you from hell.

You would be a murderer and a traitor.

And you clearly had the chance to change course. You could have helped your team, but you didn't. Because they only knew the guy with a mask, not the person behind it. You cared for them, but they reciprocated these feelings for a fake identity. Not for the real you.

But after all this time pretending, do you even know who this "real _you_" is?

* * *

There is only one chance for you. You would have to decide if you'd rather run or be put behind bars in this very moment. So I ask you, would you take this opportunity to restart? Would you be able to overcome your mistakes? Would you?

You murderer. You traitor.

What now?

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**Thank you for reading! And please tell me if you liked it or not, because how am I ever going to improve if someone doesn't point out my mistakes :)**

This story had been inspired by the book: "A spy among friends – Kim Philby and the great betrayal" from Ben Macintyre. A true story about a secret soviet spy, who (as the title kind of already tells) betrayed his lifelong friend in using him to get to know information that he would pass on to the USSR. Philby (the double agent) was a very mysterious man, who never seemed to fully open up to anybody. Nobody ever knew the real Mr. Philby, because there seemed to be different versions of him. And one only got to know one of them.

He had been given a second chance, but he still placed his commitment to communism over his friendship. (that he did cherish, nevertheless)

After reading this book, I just had to write this.

I'm not sure if I'll leave this as a one-shot or if I'll decide to make a story out of this so I marked it as "incomplete".


	2. Chapter 2

_**Apparently the boredom that results when being stuck in a cast, can fight off writer's block. Let me know if you like it, and thank you for reading. **_

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_"When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us." – Alexander Graham Bell_

He missed his chance. Once being a man who had no problems with fast decision making, he had waited too long. And now it was too late. _A live behind bars it would be now_, he thought as he was handed his prisoner's garb and walked along a narrow, grey aisle.

The bars were closed and he found himself alone in a cell. It seemed like traitors didn't get a cell mate. He wondered where he had been brought; he hadn't seen a sign of the prison yet. And on his gown was nothing that indicated his location or the name of this facility. The only thing he did know was that this wasn't the fridge. After it had fallen, S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed to use this place to lock up their enemies. Well, the one's they were able to recapture.

He sighed as he sat down on the small bed. He wondered if he'd ever be able to fall asleep here, it felt uncomfortable and he was way too big to fully stretch himself out. He never thought he'd say that but he already missed the bed in his bunk. It hadn't been big either, but he could at least move around without worrying to fall out.

Besides his bunk didn't look as depressing as this cell. Although he hadn't had much personal things to store away, he had used the shelf to place a few pictures there. Garret and him on the day when he finished his training, the first time he had been on a beach by the sea. He also had stored his books and a Gameboy that he had hid from everyone else on the bus there. No one needed to know that he secretly enjoyed playing Pokémon. That was a hobby the real Grant Ward liked, not something the grumpy and stern Agent Ward of S.H.I.E.L.D did.

Yes, he missed the possibility of deciding on what to put in his shelves. Or how to dress. Here it was simple. He could choose between mint green and grey. That was the color of his gown. Mint green trousers, grey shirt and what a surprise a mint green hoodie. Variation was not common here, it seemed.

The white of his socks was the only thing not in these colors. Even the walls had the same shade of green. It looked like he lived in a surgery and he wondered if he would ever get used to it.

He knew very well that he deserved to be here. But to think about all the things he had done, was much more painful than to philosophize about the colors he would be seeing a lot in the next few months. Or years. Or till his very end.

Nobody had said anything when locking him away. Nobody had told him how long he could expect to be here. Or what he should expect while being here. Nothing. Not a single word was spoken.

Maybe that was the punishment. To be left in the dark. The same thing he had done with his former teammates.

It was suiting, but he doubted that this was the work of Coulson. This smelled more like May. She knew he didn't care about physical torture. He didn't like it, but he could handle it. So she seemed to have thought about something else. Maybe she had noticed that he struggled to stay in silence every time they slept together. He didn't want to talk about feelings, god no, but about the current mission, or even the weather. She had always just looked at him while getting dressed again, without saying a word. Never been a chatty one.

He wasn't either, but he liked the company of talkative people.

Fitz and Skye had always been….

_No. Don't go there. Not going to happen_, he thought as he brushed off his thoughts. _Where was I? Ah, right, the green walls. _

Maybe he would be allowed to hang up a few posters. But probably not. These walls were perhaps part of his punishment too. And much to his disgrace, it seemed to work.

If there was nothing else to think about, the topic you don't want to think about the most becomes harder and harder to ignore. He could feel his regret, deep down, hidden beneath his vacuous face. But what was yet to be revealed, was hard to push down.

What was worse?

Thinking about it or trying not to think about it? He knew that the latter was hard, but the former appeared to be harder. He would have to face his feelings and that was something he and the fake Ward had in common. They both weren't great at that.

So it was the walls. The surgically, mint green walls. Or as he liked to call it:

The color of madness.

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Reviews are always welcome and appreciated. Thank you for reading!


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